A Very Fine Line
by Austin B
Summary: The line between love and hate is hard to define for two of the crew. FS


_I do not own Cowboy Bebop of any of its characters._

A/N...Hey this is Austin...my first Bebop fic here, so I hope I did okay. I'm a total Fiker, so this will be filled with Fikey goodness. That sounds kind of dirty when you say it out loud. Try it. Fiker. Hee hee... anyway, please review, it would mean a lot to me.

**A Very Fine Line**

"Goddammit." Spike growled as he spotted Faye flying overhead in the heap of scrap metal that she called The very last thing he needed was another ass to take care of beside his own. He pressed his back against the cool concrete, the tears in his shirt let his blood smear onto the wall as he slid around it, gun drawn. His suit jacket had long since been discarded, or torn from his body, it was all a blur of smoke and explosions.

Harold Light was a hard man to catch. Not to mention his surprisingly impressive array of arsenals, he was a master of hand to hand combat. But the 5 million woolong bounty made it all worthwhile. If he made it out alive, that is.

Spike dashed across the courtyard, bullets singing past him, throwing dirt up in front of him, and he rapidly changed directions, diving headfirst behind a large stone column. Faye passed overhead again, drawing Light's gunfire momentarily, giving Spike an opening. He aimed carefully, drew in a breath and held it, then squeezed the trigger gently as he released his breath evenly.

Light froze, dropped his gun at his side, and collapsed on the ground.

"Fuck." Spike mumbled. Not worth anything dead. He strolled to him and crouched in the pool of blood, checking for a pulse, just in case. He heard and felt the air from Faye's landing, and she swaggered over to him.

"Son of a bitch." She said, disappointed.

"I told you to stay with Jet." Spike ground out, standing and turning to her. She just quirked a brow.

"And when was the last time I listened to you?" She said as she turned to walk away. Spike clenched his fists and bit his knuckles, trying not to punch her.

"Faye!" He burst, exasperated, and stalked to her when she looked over her shoulder at him uninterested. "If you hadn't stormed in guns blazing I woulda got him no problem!"

"Oh please, Spike is your ego that out of control? You're bleeding all over yourself, Light had heat seeking missiles in his coat pockets, you would totally have died. So instead of bitching at me, maybe you should be thanking me for blazing in and saving your ass!" Faye had turned to him, eyes fiery with anger, hand on her hip, other jamming a finger into his chest.

She spun away from him and he followed closely behind, bickering all the way back to the Bebop. They wouldn't speak to each other all night as they ate a meager dinner prepared by Jet who was waiting for some word of praise for his cooking as his companions just fumed on opposite sides of the room.

He glanced between them, expecting some comment about his fine job. He rolled his eyes finally when he realized Spike and Faye were still pissed at each other and pouting, playing the stupid cold shoulder game.

"Wow, Jet, these peppers are great! Why, thank you, Faye, so good of you to say so. Yeah, Jet, best yet! Oh, Spike, you don't mean that. No, really I do, I never thought peppers could taste so-"

"Alright!" Faye burst. "Jesus, Jet, we get it. Good dinner. Lord." She muttered, scarfed up the rest of her peppers and retired to her room. Spike relaxed once she left, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and clicked on the television.

"You can't still be mad at her for trying to help, can you?"

"Jet! How can you defend her? You're the one who's always saying how much trouble she makes!"

"I know, but, she really has the best of intentions at heart. And it wasn't my ass getting kicked out there for nothing." He added with a smirk. Spike glared at him, not dignifying the comment with a response.

* * *

Spike woke up with a start, instantly wary, his fingers touched the cold metal of the Jericho he kept on his bedside table. He knew some sound had woken him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed an outline at the foot of his bed, crouched by his dirty, torn clothes that had been discarded the night before.

In one fluid motion, Spike leapt from under his sheet and pointed the gun at the figure. In only his boxers, he did not feel very menacing, but his tall figure, impressive build and intense eyes made up for it.

"What're you gonna do, Spike, shoot me? I'm only bumming a smoke." Faye said smoothly. Spike made to lower his gun, but thought twice and raised it again. "Honestly!" Faye stood, "Fine, I guess I'll just smoke my own." She made to leave, but Spike stepped in front of the door.

"Ah, ah, Faye. My cigarettes weren't in my pocket last night. I put them in the bedside table at night. You know that, you've taken them from there before."

"Wha-?" Faye had always thought he was sleeping.

"But my wallet was. You runnin off again, Faye? Gonna go waste some more of my hard earned money at the casino? Make me chase you all over the fucking galaxy to bring you back? To make sure you don't get yourself killed?" Spike still stood steady, gun pointed at her heart. Faye walked to him until the end of the gun touched the skin of her chest.

"Yes. That's exactly what I was doing, except without you coming after me. That's why I always go away, Spike, is to get away from you don't you get that? I hate you, why do you want to bring me back?" She yelled, lips pursed tightly, brow drawn down furiously.

It was a good question. One Spike had made a point to avoid.

"Put the money back, Faye."

"No." She insisted, and they stared at each other for the longest time. Until suddenly, like the thief he was, Spike reached out to snatch Faye around the neck with one hand and spun her around to slam her back against the wall. He pressed his body against her, his other hand snaked around her back to slip into the waistband of the shorts she wore. His eyes kept locked with hers, stoic, mismatched orbs, their noses brushed. Faye caught her breath, unable to even move, unable to push him away.

Spike removed the wad of cash from her shorts and stepped away to toss it back on his bed, turning his back to her. One hand ran through his hair, the other holding the gun on his hip. Once she caught her breath, she turned to leave, defeated for now, but he spoke.

"Are you looking for something more? Something better? Or do you really hate us that much that you just need to get away, no matter where you go?"

"Why do you care?" She bit back, thought about leaving, but decided against it. He deserved to be agitated the way he was agitating her. If he was going to demand answers, then so was she.

"I don't." He insisted, still turned away from her, looking at the ceiling, gun discarded on his bed, hands on hips.

"Like hell." Faye smirked, stepped up close to his back, whispered in his ear. "Why do you always come after me? Huh, Spike? Why do you want to keep me here?" She knew she was making him mad, it was what she wanted. She felt his body tense, could feel his temperature rise. But still he kept himself in check. Faye had always secretly admired his sense of control. She had never been in control of her emotions. She was too explosive.

So, she tried a little harder. "Tell me, Spike. Tell me why you-"A fingertip had tucked in the waistband of his boxers. And he instantaneously spun around to grab her by the shoulders and throw her down on his bed. She felt the gun under her elbow, but Spike was standing above her, a knee between hers, looking down at her, pointing a finger menacingly.

"You don't get to demand any answers from me. I'm the one who gives you food and shelter, keeps you safe. You don't get to know anything about me if I don't want you to. I don't owe you explanations for anything I do. It's you who owes me. For all I've done, for all the questions you've left. You owe me answers."

"I keep my own self safe, thank you very much. And I don't owe anyone a fucking explanation." Faye tried to get up, but he pushed her back down, his hands around her wrists holding them to the bed by her head. "Don't you touch me." Faye ground out between clenched teeth. Spike glared down at her before releasing her suddenly. Faye got up slowly. He'd turned away from her again, as if he couldn't stand looking at her any more.

"Just leave, now. Take my Goddamn money, just go. I won't follow." He said quietly, curtly. Almost sadly.

"Dammit, Spike." She demanded, but he did not make any movement. She knew she had no right to demand anything from him. But she didn't care. She pushed him roughly, and he stumbled forward and then turned to look at her incredulously, quickly morphing into fury.

"Get out of my sight, Valentine, before I do something I might regret." He warned in a low voice.

"Like what, Spike? Come on, hit me. I know you want to." She leaned forward smugly. But he did not hit her. Instead, he grabbed the back of her neck, much as he had before, only this time he pulled her roughly against him and kissed her. He kissed her like she had always imagined he would kiss. Spontaneous, brutally passionate, fiery. Faye responded instantly, and both were too surprised to do anything but rely on instinct, and subconscious, pent up tension.

His grip on her as he wound his arms around her bare waist was so tight she could hardly breathe, but she didn't mind, and she tilted her head to open her mouth to his kiss. Spike lifted her up and Faye wrapped her long legs around his bare torso. They toppled onto the bed and Spike traveled along Faye's skin with his lips, kissing, licking, nipping down to her chest and back up to her other ear. Her shirt was discarded quickly and they both gasped as he was inside her. He pressed a kiss to her neck softly as she got used to the feeling, and he began rocking.

It was fire and fury, tenderness and ferocity existed in such a perfect balance, an exciting rush of emotions and sensations, beginning to end. She wasn't sure what she was saying, but words spilled from her lips in whispers and moans, mostly his name. Her nails drug red lines down his shoulders and Faye only clung to him more desperately and kissed him ever harder when he whispered her name.

It was hard for him not to tell her everything as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, her legs still wrapped around him. Their skin stuck together, all he could hear was their breathing and her rapid heartbeat in his ear. He looked up at her, and she down to him with heavy lidded eyes and a small smirk. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again before laying beside her on his back, wrapping his arms around her and they fell asleep entangled in each other.

Spike slept like a rock, a more restful and peaceful sleep than he could ever remember. Faye, however, slept fitfully. She ran a hand down Spike's chest, over the contours of his muscles, the curves of his face. She wanted to wake him up and ask him all the questions that he sent flying through her head, but he looked so wonderful in sleep that she couldn't bear it. And, she was afraid of what his answers might be.

What if it meant nothing? Just the tension snapping. What if there were no feelings behind it at all? What if he really did hate her? Then how could he be holding her so tenderly? Faye squeezed her eyes shut tightly, turning away from Spike, curling herself as small as she could.

Hours later, Faye had convinced herself of the worst case scenario. After all, that was usually what happened to her. She slid from under Spike's arm to dress quietly, holding her breath the whole time. As she pulled on her white boots, she heard him stir and bit her lip, freezing.

"Hey." Was his dismayed, sleepy protest as he lifted himself up on his elbow. "Faye-"

"Don't. Okay, just don't, Spike. I know, you don't have to say anything, I'm leaving."

"Faye, stop it." Spike demanded, jolted awake immediately. She was searching under the strewn clothes and blankets for the wad of cash that had been carelessly tossed aside the night before. "What's wrong with you?"

Faye searched desperately under the bed as Spike looked down over her. "Me? What's wrong with me? I'm not the one who avoids the important questions and fucks with other people's heads and emotions, I'm not… aha here it is. I'm outta here." She emerged from under the bed and did not hesitate to head for the door.

"It's because I need you." Spike said to her retreating back, which stopped dead. She did not turn around. "That's why I follow you when you run away. I need you here. With me. I need to know you're safe. I ..." He confessed softly, and trailed off,not watching her as she turned slowly. He did not see the tears in her eyes. The things he made her feel were dangerous. She couldn't love him, she'd get hurt, she'd hurt him and they'd both be ruined.

But Faye didn't care.

"I hate you." Was her tearful whisper. Spike finally lifted his eyes to hers. She smiled, his hair was tousled and the sheet was all that was lain across his lap.

Spike smiled, "I love you, too."

* * *

So, there it is. I have another Bebop fic on the way, if you enjoyed this one, I think you'll like the other, too. I haven't decided on a title, so if you look under my profile you'll find it. If you even care to.

I've been hibernating for a while, taking a break from writing. Not voluntarily, I just haven't had any inspiration. All my favorite shows are done for the summer. tear But then I discovered Cowboy Bebop! And I'm back.

Luv, Austin B.


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